


sweater weather is lonelier by yourself

by wearegoingtodie



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depressive Episode, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Light Angst, Self-Indulgent, but i actually edited it so, i mean its ranboo and we been knew the lore so, projecting? again? bc i failed to die? yeah, short as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearegoingtodie/pseuds/wearegoingtodie
Summary: failure comes in a million different ways.
Kudos: 8





	sweater weather is lonelier by yourself

Light streamed through lazily shut blinds, exposing dust and dead skin drifting through the air until they found their place on the dirtied floor, or on the untouched dresser, or on the still and hardly breathing form of Ranboo on his bed. The hybrid’s dual coloured eyes followed trails of dust floating in the stream of light, eyes half-lidded, and barely awake. Getting up would be a waste of time, if he was already getting up this late, anyway. Not that he knew what time it was. The telltale clicking of a clock came from across the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to shift around to look at it. Ranboo...didn’t remember the last time he’d been out of bed. Ranboo didn’t remember a lot of things. (He thought he used to have a nickname about that…)

It was lonely in the solitary confinement of his room. He’d managed to drag himself out of bed, but now sat, unmoving, on the floorboards beneath him, eyes closed and head pounding with blood rushing. Some part of him was screaming, shouting, fighting so desperately to go back to bed, and hide from more notes and smiley faces and eyes looking into him. The feeling of eyes penetrating, searching, looking for things they shouldn’t, burned into Ranboo as he squeezed his eyes shut harder, to make sure nobody was looking, nobody saw. And yet, whatever human part of him was left craved contact. Craved speech, and craved eyes looking into his own. Craved the sight, the knowledge, that those eyes held love in them.

It was utterly off. It was utterly wrong. It was cold and warm at the same time and it was painful to even exist. Contact, confinement, neither would matter because only one person would contact him, and he knew that. He wondered how long it had been.

It wouldn’t be much longer.


End file.
